Without You Here (10 page)

Finally he regained control. He racked his memory, trying to think of a time when Blake might have mentioned her name. He came to the disheartening realization that he really didn’t know what his son has spent the last few years doing. Surely he’d mentioned a girlfriend now and then. Wyatt couldn’t remember. He’d failed to maintain a good relationship with his son. He could add that to the massive heap of guilt dragging him down. 

What he needed now, more than anything in the world, was a drink. Or ten. He hesitated another moment and then stood. He turned and saw himself in the mirror. He looked completely normal. He'd read a book once about a man who looked normal but there was a painting of him that transformed with all of his sins. Wyatt wondered what his painting would look like.

He couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. He would have to tough it out until he could get Ettie alone for a moment. He didn't know what he would say to her, but he was pretty sure that one of them would have to leave Blake's life forever.

He took another deep breath and then went back out into the house. His mother was hard at work preparing for dinner. She was dividing out the dough and making more dinner rolls. She smiled up at him. "Is everything okay, dear?" she asked.

"Yeah," Wyatt said.

"What do you think of Ettie?"

She's fun, cheerful, great in bed. "Seems nice. Blake likes her." Wyatt stood by the back door and watched the activity going on out there. Ettie was chatting with Cecily, Wyatt's sister. She was just as cheerful and oblivious as she'd been the night he'd taken her up to the lookout in his truck.

"I think she's going to fit right in, here."

"Yeah?" Wyatt turned and leaned back against the doorjamb. "What are you basing that on? You've known her about five minutes."

She shrugged. "Sometimes you can just tell about people."

He shook his head and looked out at the yard again.

"I think Amberlee would have approved," she said.

Wyatt couldn't suppress the bitter laugh.

Liza looked up at him. "You don't think she would?"

He swallowed down the despair that seemed to get deeper and thicker all the time. "Yeah, I'm sure she would. She'd just want the boy to be happy."

Liza smiled and shaped some more bread dough. "And how are you and 'the boy' getting on, these days?"

"Fine, as far as I know."

"As far as you know. You might have a more definite answer if you and he ever talked."

"We talk fine, Mom."

"That's not true, and you know it. You've pushed him away same as you've pushed the rest of us away."

"If you're just going to nag me, I'll go home."

She looked up at him, her eyes stern. "I never knew you to run away from problems, Wyatt. It's time you turned and faced this grief head-on. You got to move through it before you can move past it."

He stared at her. She had no idea what a low-life piece of shit he was. No idea how he'd spent last weekend betraying his wife's memory with his son's girlfriend. Didn't matter that he didn't know it at the time, he still felt guilt as heavy as a thousand cinder blocks weighing on his soul. He was so tired. He looked out at Blake and Ettie and thought how much better off they'd be if he just disappeared. He was so tired.

"I wish I could've gone with her," he said, more to himself than to Liza. "You remember that book you read us when we were kids?
Where the Red Fern Grows
? Old Dan dies and Little Ann just lies down and dies with him. I guess that's why I go out to Amberlee's grave so much. I take myself a bottle of whiskey and drink myself to sleep, praying the whole time that I just won't wake up again." He choked, surprised by the sudden upwelling of tears. "Fuck," he cursed, digging his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"Oh, Son," Liza said, her voice quivering.

Wyatt stepped back, fell into one of the kitchen chairs and rested his forehead on his palms. "I just don't want to be here anymore," he said.

Liza reached for him, but he flinched away. He shook his head and held up a finger, asking for a moment.

He fought back the sorrow, squeezed his eyes tight shut and swallowed again and again until he was sure it was going to stay down. Then he opened his eyes and stood. He turned to the back door and watched his family outside. And Ettie. "I'm sorry, Mom. Just having a moment of self-pity. Don't even listen to me. I just need a drink is all.” He escaped outside before she could reply. He sat on the porch steps next to a cooler and grabbed a beer.

Stan came and sat next to him. "Your boy sure caught himself a looker." He nodded to where Ettie was tugging at Blake's arm, trying to get him to do something he clearly didn't want to do.

"She's cute." Wyatt took another drink.

"Perky, too. She just seems excited to be alive. Blake showed her the chickens and she thought they were the most amazing things she'd ever seen."

Wyatt's lips quirked up in a faint smile. "She's a cheerful little thing."

"You doing alright?"

Wyatt smiled again. They'd all gotten in such a habit of checking on him that they didn't know when it was time to quit. "Doing good. Real glad to have the boy home for a while."

Stan nodded. "Maybe he'll make you a grandpa soon."

This was a punch to the gut. He looked at Stan who grinned mischievously. "They're too young."

"Older than you and Amberlee were."

Wyatt shook his head. "Shut up or I'm gonna punch you in the mouth."

Stan sighed. "You're always the first to resort to violence."

Wyatt shrugged. It was true enough. Stan had always been smarter than him. All Wyatt had in defense was his right hook.

He watched Ettie as she hovered around the chicken yard.

"Hey, Dad!" Blake was jogging toward him. "Come on, I want you to get to know her."

Wyatt stared helplessly at him.

"Come on." Blake nodded toward Ettie.

Wyatt stood and followed. Ettie was squatting down trying to get the chickens to come to her. They were standing back looking at her like she was crazy. It was pretty impressive that they hadn't run away from her.

"Ettie's never seen chickens before," Blake said.

She looked up and then stood. Her smile faltered.

"Never seen chickens?" Wyatt asked. "I thought you were from Carterville."

"Yeah," Blake said. And then, "Hey, how'd you know that?"

Shit
,
Wyatt thought. "Uh, I think you mentioned it a few weeks ago. Your girlfriend from Carterville."

"Oh. Huh."

Ettie rushed in. "I didn't get out much, growing up." She got back down and held out her hand to the one who was hesitantly approaching. "What are their names?"

"Oh, God," Blake groaned.

Wyatt would have let her name every one of those stupid chickens. He saw it now, what it would have been like if he'd been able to bring her here. He would have had the joy of following her around and watching her get excited about everything. Maybe they would go places together. She wanted to travel. He'd have taken her to all the places she'd always dreamed of going. But that was for Blake to do, now. And what kind of father would begrudge his son that happiness.

"We don't name chickens, Ettie," Blake was saying.

"Why not?"

"Could you stop asking stupid questions, please? Just for one day?"

She glared up at him, angry and hurt.

Wyatt felt a sudden urge to punch Blake. He'd never raised a hand to his boy, but for this one moment, he wasn't thinking of him as his son. "You want to feed them, Ettie?" Wyatt asked, hoping to put a smile back on her face.

Ettie jumped to her feet and nodded.

He escaped down to the chicken house, ducked inside, and filled a bucket part way with corn. When he came out, Blake was pushing her hair out of her face, his hand lingering along her jaw. God, he couldn't do this. He couldn't stand having another man touch her. And he couldn't stand that that man was his own son. He loved his son, but he hated the man touching his Ettie.

He approached them and handed Ettie the bucket. "I just toss it on the ground?" she asked.

"Yep."

She grabbed a handful and tossed it on the ground. The chickens clucked around and pecked at the ground. She threw out another handful. "Do you think I could get them to eat out of my hand?"

"I wouldn't," Wyatt said. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets and watched.

"They're so busy," she said. "Do they lay eggs?"

Wyatt wondered who had raised this girl and done such a woeful job educating her. "Of course they lay eggs." He pointed to the coop where the chickens nested.

She looked up at him. "Do you...eat the eggs?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Well...then how do you get baby chickens? If you eat all the eggs? And what happens if there's already a baby chicken in the egg when you get it? How do you know when the eggs are ready to pick? And don't the chickens get upset when you take their babies?"

Her questions were so earnest and yet there was a glint of humor in her eyes. For a moment he forgot everything else and she was his girl. He took a deep breath to tease her. "So many questions. I'll start at the beginning. When a girl chicken and a boy chicken meet and fall in love..."

She laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. Suddenly he ached to hold her. In that same moment, she remembered herself, and backed up. All of his brief good humor vanished.

"Forget it, Dad," Blake said. "She thinks it's cute or something. Asking questions like a five-year-old."

"I do not, Blake! I just want to know, okay?" She glared at Blake.

"Maybe if you just observe for a while, you'll figure things out without having to bug everyone."

"She's not bothering anyone," Wyatt said. He was practically shaking with frustration. He needed to get out of here.

"Yeah, well that's nice of you, Dad. But she really can control herself if she puts her mind to it."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" she said. She turned and pressed her hand to her eyes.

Blake looked stricken. "Are you crying?" He looked at Wyatt, as though Wyatt was going to rescue him. Ettie's shoulders were shaking. "My God, Ettie, I'm sorry. You never cry...are you okay?" He had his arms around her.

Wyatt took the chance to escape. He went back inside to help his Mom cook. If he didn't think it would draw unwanted attention to himself, he'd just go home. But everyone would worry and call and bring him food. Better to just power through. His mom always had plenty of work for him in the kitchen.

CHAPTER NINE

Ettie was now sobbing uncontrollably. Blake was holding her, rubbing her back, trying to say comforting things. He'd never seen her like this. He was sure he must have seen her cry before, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of shed tears at a sad movie or something. This was a deluge.

"I need to go home," she cried.

"It's okay, Honey. I'm going to take you back to my Dad's house and—“

"No! I don't want to go there. I want to go home."

"Ettie, please. We just got here. Let's go somewhere alone for a few moments and get calmed down, okay?"

She nodded, thank God, and he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her around to the front of the house. They sat on the porch steps. She hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face. He rubbed her back and waited. Finally, after five of the longest minutes of his life, she sat up and rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. "I'm going to call Lauren. She'll come get me."

"We just got here."

"I can't be here. I'm sorry." She jumped up and walked away into the driveway. She leaned against his car and before he could stop her, she had her cell phone out.

"Lauren, call me back immediately."

Voicemail. Good. That would buy him some time. He approached her and put his hands on the car on either side of her, penning her in. She met his gaze dead-on. That was never a good sign. Ettie got what she wanted whenever the conversation started with that look. He had to head this off. "We'll go home," he said. "Give me the weekend and we'll go home. You can spend the week at my apartment...we'll play house. It'll be fun."

Her stare didn't waver. "I'm going home. You're staying here. I can't see you anymore, Blake."

"Ettie, I am not going through this with you again. Whatever this is, just talk to me and we'll work it out."

"There's nothing to work out. It's over."

"Ettie, please. I can't lose you." He was panicking again. He couldn't be alone. He didn't want to be alone.

Her cell phone buzzed. She answered. "I need you to come get me...yes, at Apple Creek...Well what are you doing in St. Louis?...Sunday? Sunday!...No, no, I'm sorry. You're right. No. Thank you so much, Lauren. If I get a ride before then, I'll call you...Okay, I will...See you Sunday." She hung up, closed her eyes and dropped her head back. "Can you take me back home?"

"Lauren's in St. Louis?"

"Yes, and her car's in the shop. She gets it back Sunday and she can come for me, then. Unless you can take me home before."

He took her face in his hands. "One weekend. Give me this one weekend. I'll be an absolute angel to you. You'll see...we're going to have such a good time. I'll take you riding! You've always wanted to ride a horse. We'll go tomorrow. Give me the weekend, Ettie."

"I'm breaking up with you. We're broken up. Right now. It's over."

"Okay," Blake said, grappling for a foothold. "We're broken up. We're just friends. So stay the weekend as my friend, and you can go home on Sunday."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You have no idea what you're asking of me."

She still had feelings for him. Thank God. Maybe he could salvage this. "It's two nights. That's not too much to ask after all we've been through together."

The tears edged over and she shook her head. "I wish you'd just take me home."

"Please, Baby. Please."

She took in a shaky breath. And then another. Finally she nodded. "Fine."

He kissed her and brought her into his arms. "It's going to be great. I'm going to take such good care of you."